Flag of Love
by TheStrangeFreakyMentalWriter
Summary: A song-one shot story of Germany and Italy. And the song of choice, I say is very fitting. Read and Review. Song: White Flag by Ashlyne Huff.


Today was just like any other, and Germany was in office working through papers. Glancing at the clock waiting. Griming for the door to blast open; for a wild Italian; yapping away; for them to have pasta together or something. No . . . It would be pasta.

"Any minute now . . . " Before going back to work.

Cut short because the sounds of: "Ve~ Doitsu! Doitsu! Do~itsu!"

Cue the door flies open.

Deep breathing before speaking. "Evening, Italy, how has your da . . . " Finally seeing his face from looking away from his work. "What's with the look?" Then seeing his happy-good lucky friend's hands are behind his body.

Italy tries to keep his joyfulness low, great pasta, he was trying, so his Doitsu would not know. Walking up to his desk. "Ve~Doitsu, do you know what today is?"

Germany found the question odd, then again, so was the person who asked it. "No, I would sa . . . "

Italy's face change from happy too sad. "Ve~How could you forget! Doitsu! You meanie!" Dropping what he had in his hands and bolted out of the study.

Germany was about to go after him, but stop, thinking his wacky friend would be better later. Sky eyes landing what was dropped, picked up the colorful wrapping small box shape gift. Knowing for a fact it was his, he opens it.

A scrap-book? Handmade from the art Germany knew belong to Italy, without thinking, begun to open it to the first page. A large picture of him and Italy working during WWII, news clip and a saying written by it.

That was the day, when they became allies a little before Japan came into the picture. They were getting ready for battle. Training that never seem to fit the Italian soldiers one bit. Give or take, Germany never once gave up hope on them. He never gave up on his friend, but it was a war he wanted to win. Reason why Japan got involved.

Because of that, Italy never got really close to Japan when they met. The pasta lover kept a good five or so meters away from Japan. Well that was until Italy saw them get close, friend-wise, that is.

The saying next to the news clip said: "With Doitsu by my side, I know I'm safe. Vé!"

He gave a small smile to those words.

Moving onto the next picture, this time a page filled with few different ones, hand-drawn this time. From how they were done this is how Italy saw it.

First one on the top left corner, Germany was making clocks. Another next to it was a picture of his favorite food . . . this book look liked it was well put together. Not a store brought one, no. Handmade. And only for him.

All this was from Italy. Germany could feel his cheeks blast too deep crimson. Now everything came back, today, was it really? Placing the book down and rushing to see if it was that date. Eyes wide in shock, it was, that day they meant.

"What an idiot I am."

Oh, how did this day pass by him without even knowing. On and off this day came to mind and was more offend brought by Italy who took care of the day as a mother to a child on its birthday. How was Germany going to make this up to him? Well, the clear thing would to go look for him and see if there's a chance to save this day from ending badly.

Let the hunt for Italy begin, as like it always did when that boy always ran off.

In such as a house of Germany's, there would be no place the Italian could hide for long. But some how he was proven wrong. Until he lastly checks his own room. Nothing seems to be out-of-place, but in a world that always seemed full of surprises, you can never too carefully. A reason to check the closet all the better.

"Italy?" Germany was right, seeing the little cry baby on the floor, facing towards the wall, shaking like a leaf. "Italy, look at me."

"No, non voglio." And moved even for, if that was possible into the closet.

"E perché no, Italia, ti prego, dimmi." Speaking on equal grounds.

"Il nostro anniversario, hai dimenticato."

"Ich konnte nie vergessen, ich gerade war so beschäftigt, jetzt in meinem Land. Aber ich bin jetzt fertig, so dass wir tun können, was auch immer Sie tun wollen, Italien. Alles, was überhaupt." Hoping for him to take this, Germany wanted him to know how sorry he was.

"Really?!" And the happy Italian was back on his feet and crushing Germany in an overbearing hug. But Germany bared it for his friend.

"Yes, so what do you want to do?"

Italy glanced over to the clock, shocked to see what time those green lights gave. "Oh, we better hurry or we'll lose our table." And dashed out of the room to his too changed. "Doitsu, put something nice and start the car!"

Germany only smiled and changed as he was told, never heard Italy be demanding before. A nice change for once. And maybe only this one time.

The restaurant was wonderful, and Italy was a fine cook with his hands and his eyes. Seeing that the place fit both what they wanted. This was something Germany would not forget for now on, but there was this thing that was on his mind. That book that Italy made by his hands. He had to return the favor, but how.

The answer was on the other side of the street from the restaurant. Once they were done eating, he would have to get over there when Italy wasn't looking. The idea alone was a bit much, yes he was sure of that, but it all seems reasonable all at the same time. He knew for a fact his little comrade's brother was going to kill him later, but it was chance to take.

"This is very nice, Italy."

"Yeah, I took a lot of time to find this place. I did it for you."

"You didn't have to."

"I know, but what else could I do? Besides make you pasta."

"True."

"Doitsu!" In a very cute pouting way.

Germany could feel his cheeks heat up, but blame it on the beer's doing. Like always when Italy said words or actions like that to him that made his body feel weird. "Italy, do you want to go to that park across the street after this, a stroll maybe."

"As long it's with you, always . . . Ludwig."

They clinked their glasses together and took a sip. Still chatting right afterwards and leaving once their dinner was over. Paid and headed over to the park. It was a cold night, and skies clear and stars very bright that night. It was very peaceful. A small fountain was soon within eyesight and they took a seat on the edge of it. Enjoy the moment of silence before Italy's talking came involved.

The place Germany saw before was still within sight. He took the chance saying he had to do something and faked his phone going off and answering it. Leaving for a moment to take care of it.

Poor Italy, lower lip out and sad. Unknowing his finger was tracing shapes and lost his gazed into the pool of water before him. His face clear to see, light honey hair blocking a bit of amber eyes. He could see faint lines of wounds from pasted battles; ones that could have not been worst if not for Germany to be around.

For once he had another to look up other than his brother. The spouse of water had a very calming tone to it as his eyes wonder the graving that made this fountain. Hand made by Germans . . . No Germany himself. Such loveliness stone had, very close to the stone cravings of Ludwig himself.

Italy knew for a fact not to let that slip to anyone else if a war ever happens again. Tries as he might for training, but he knew had to try. To keep his friend, his Germany safe from harm.

"Italy?" That voice came out of nowhere.

He turns to see who it was and not too happy to see who it was. Of all the people to come and show up to ruining this great and Germany could come back at any second.

"Ciao, fratello, che cosa ci fai qui?"

"Avrei potuto chiedere la stessa cosa? Dov' che patato-bastardo che vostro sempre la mancanza a?"

"Lavoro lo ha chiamato, torner ."

"Non vedo perché si stare con lui. Io non fiducia in lui e guarda che cosa ha ottenuto in."

"Che era la mia scelta, fratello, e voi sapete che. Amo molto in Germania ed essere lieto di prendere una pallottola per lui ogni giorno."

"Non dire che cosa? La verit ! Non credo che non mi fratello. Della Germania ha fatto molto per me e mai una volta ha provato a colpire una volta o urlare at . . . oltre alla formazione."

"E che cosa? Pensi che non mi preoccupo per te! cos ? per questo che hai lasciato con lui!"

"No, che non vero! Io sempre ti amo fratello, ma questo tipo di amore diverso e voglio sapere cosa sia con la Germania."

"Vostro che cosa? Hai detto . . . "

"Amore, fratello. Ho detto che io amo il germe di quell'amore . . . Ludwig e voglio vedere se vero o no."

"You do, Feliciano?"

Another voice and the one Italy was waiting for. Seeing Germany not far from where Italy or his brother. How badly did he want his brother to begone at that very moment. The same feeling was coming from his brother with the German in front of them.

The smaller Italian soon remembered what the German asked and nodded. Not really how he wanted to tell him but before would have been better if Ludwig's boss didn't call at that very moment.

"Romano, si prega di lasciare, parleremo pi tardi." Italy finally finding his voice, but choices of words could have been thought out better.

"No!"

"Did I miss something?"

"Damn right, you did, bastard!" Romano walks right up to Germany. Not close to be eye to eye, but with the anger that was growing in him. He felt like a giant to the German. "What have you done to my brother?!"

"Romano . . . "

"I have no idea what you mean?" Germany, was only being honest to this next part. "I thought he was always like this, he's your brother, you should know that of all people."

"Why you . . . " He was ready to punch the guy until his fist was stopped, but not from the German. From his own brother.

"Go home, fratello!" Warnings were clear from his words and he let go of his brother.

His brother's face in shock, close to what Germany had as well seeing that angry, for maybe the first time. In a way to the German, he kind of found it hot . . . if that was the right word for it.

Romano did do what he was told, but left one last glare to the tall blond German.

Once home, Italy blew out on a huge sorry to his German friend.

"Mi dispiace, che mi dispiace, non mai inteso per il fratello di mostrare e cercare di colpire voi. So che lui pu essere una punta molto. Ma questo come egli e non non c' alcun modo per cambiare la situazione. E volevo dirvi quanto mi sento per te ed appena venuto fuori dal nulla e solo - Oh se mai vedere la sua faccia ancora una volta, gli dar un lungo colloquio su non a quello nuovo, Germania! Sto solo cos dispiaciuta data dovevo fine quel modo - forse possiamo fare qualcosa che ti piace domani e far mantiene sicuri della Spagna fratello via quindi nulla..."

Germany grabbed hold of the speedy talker to keep him still, the little man looked up to meet blues eyes, just like the wide-open skies. "Italy, its fine. Your brother not really a problem to me, so please don't worry about it."

"But . . . But . . . "

"No buts, its fine." Wiping away tears that start to drop from his eyes, there was no point for them. "Go wash up and get ready for bed. We had a long day."

"Okay." And started up the stairs.

After the shower, Italy felt a lot better. Again Germany knew how to make him feel better without even trying. Taking care of him without much thought to it. towelling off and getting dress in some shorts and started for his bed. For this night, maybe he'll stay in it and let Germany have a night . . . What was that?

Seeing a small black box laid near his bed. A note under it. With care lifted the small box to get the note from under. Placing the box back down and open the note. It was in Germany's handwriting. With four words that mean a lot in any way it was written in.

Ich liebe dich auch.

Then Italy's eyes went to the box. Placing the note down this time and replacing for the box now. Open the box and just wanted to cry.

The night was still as Germany finish up the last of the paper work he put aside for his little Italy. Praying that he found his gift. But knowing Italy, he was already out like a light and sees it in the morning after having some pasta breakfast. Germany smiled at that for some reason. Italy would never change. And he like it that way.

When everything was done, he finally went to bed. Stopping short when he saw a light on and his door open a crack. Carefully open it and seeing a sexy Italian man on his bed with open arms, begging to be taken and there was only one man for the job. Those feelings finally made sense and they choose now tells him with horns and fireworks.

"Ich liebe dich, auch Ludwig . . . Bitte nehmen Sie mich." It sounded so light and breathless.

" sicuro che si desidera che, amore mio, non entrer facile su di voi come quella." Lust poured from his lips and it only added more to what was in the air.

"I don't care as long it's you're doing, Ludwig."

That night filled with nothing but the sounds of love and lust. The animal like noise of growls could be heard as breathless words broke through the dark room. The bed creaking as if it could not take the pressure any longer. Skin and skin slapped, ending with the lusty loud moans of bliss never left each other ears. Their climax was close and they both knew.

Germany took whatever chance he got to see the light-white golden ring shine from the moon's glow. Whispering words only he could hear of the bond they were making. Knowing that the man below him was forever his and never would that man leave his sight. So, Romano, bring it on.

"Germany, I love you." Holding him as they rested in their afterglow. The hand with the ring, along with his birth stone entwine with the others, feeling of an engravement within the ring, that was only shared to the two of them, lay on top of Germany's chest, in his way was saying; "Yes, you see and I see it, I am yours and you are mine; nothing will change that." And that made Ludwig very happy inside, just as Feliciano felt the same.

"Love you, too, my love."

"Ludwig, how are we going to tell my brother?"

"Leave a note, move far away, and maybe change our names."

"Germany, take this to heart!"

"I am!"

Before they got too much out of hand, they kissed fast. Thinking the same thing just then . . . it could wait. They still had the night left to . . . think about it.

The End.


End file.
